Tears of a Hero
by Amy Kitty Katz
Summary: Alfred was a broken Nation. But that was impossible, right? He was always so happy, so carefree. But that attitude changed long ago, it seems. When Matthew stays over, he finds something heartbreaking, and impossibly true. He finds his twin, broken and bleeding. Now it's up to Mattie, Arthur, and the others, to find the broken puzzle pieces that disappeared a long time ago.


_Hey guys. It's Amy here. And guess what? Right here, this story, is something amazing. Want me to tell you why? Cuz it's the new and imp proved version of 'Tears of a Hero'; that other story that so miserably failed. And guess what else it is today?_

_An exact three months since I last cut myself._

_I'm quite proud of that. And it's been four since I last tried to kill myself. I'm also proud of that. And as a present for my victory, I'm presenting you this._

_Hope you enjoy. _

* * *

Outside, it was gray. Clouds were covering the sky, blocking any proof that a sun existed. The dark, gray clouds seemed to cry; if the drops of water pummeling down was anything to go by. Their cold tears dropped on anything and everything down below, making Mother Nature's properties soak.

And on Her property, there was a mansion. It was old, by the style of it. Late 1700's, brown, musky. Placed within an array of trees, so it was made possible that it was invisible to the public eye; except for those who knew where it was located. It was everything a mansion could possibly be.

But this certain mansion was a special one. See, this mansion didn't belong to anyone. It belonged to a personification of a certain country. Located in North America.

This country's name, was Alfred Freedom Jones. Otherwise known as the Unites States of America. The good ol' USA.

Currently, said Nation was sitting in his room, atop his bed, scribbling in a journal.

Unlike what most people would think, Alfred's room was quite neat. It consisted of a light brown wooden floor, with a big, white carpet; that was halfway under his bed, and halfway out. His bed was in the middle if the room. Queen sized, wooden frame, with a light orange quilt and some white throw pillows atop.

Across the room from his bed was a dresser, with a big mirror aside it. They were a set, and on sale too. If you were ontop the bed, like Alfred, then to you're right there would be a small bedside table with a small lamp clad with an orange shade; circular and fluffy. And to the left, almost against the wall, was a large desk. Filled with drawers and papers and work that only a country could and need to do.

Across the room from his desk was his closet. It was a big door. A large, white door. The closet was big too, for it was a walk-in. There isn't much detail that needs to be said about the closet. It hold clothes. And his collection of guns.

On the wall between the closet door and his desk were windows. Wide, tall windows that pushed open to a beautiful but mini balcony. It wasn't too small, but it wasn't large either. A small table, and two chairs were out, near the railing to overlook the beautiful garden view.

Now, don't worry, I'm almost done with describing Alfred's room. I just love details. A bit too much. Now that bedside table. To it's far right, in the wall, was the door leading out to the hallway; across from a bathroom. I'm done, happy?

Alfred was scribbling in his journal. He was drawing a picture of a graveyard. He drew the rest of the Nations crowded around one particular headstone. The stone said: _In memory of-_

Alfred jerked in surprise as his phone started to ring loudly; his ringtone being of his voice singing 'Fire Flower'. He looked at the caller ID, smiling as he answered.

"Hey Mattie! What's up dude?"

"Hi Alfie," Mattie was smiling on the other side if the line, even though he knew Alfred couldn't see it. "You haven't forgotten about the World Meeting in a few days, right? Remember it's at your place in D.C.."

Alfred nodded, then remembered that Matthew couldn't actually _see_ him nod. "Oh yeah! Don't worry, bro. I've got everything under control! I'm the hero, remember?"

Matthew laughed on the other line. "Of course, Al, of course. Hey, I just remembered, may I ask a small favor?"

Alfred raised a curious eyebrow. "Sure, Matt. What is it?"

"Um," Matthew hesitated a bit, debating on wether or not he should ask. "Is it okay if I come over and stay at your house before and throughout the World Meeting? And maybe after, depending on how long it takes? You see, Francis tried to make my house smell nice by spraying the God-awful perfume he has, but he ended up poisoning my entire house somehow, and it's going to take a long time to fix, and a lot of money. So, is it okay if I stay?"

Alfred grinned. "Of course you can! We're brothers, twins, remember? It's no problem! You could've just walked in over here without a word and stayed. You_ have a key_ to my house, you're no stranger. It's not a problem."

On the other side of the line, Mattie beamed. "Ah ,thank you Alfred! It means a lot."

"No problem, Matthew. I have to go now, to prepare for the meeting. See you soon. I love you."

"Okay. See you soon. I love you too. Goodbye."

The phone went silent, and Alfred placed his phone down next to him, in it's original position. He looked back at the journal in front of him, at the drawing. The gravestone, which said:_ In memory of Alfred F. jones. The United States of America_, lay alone. A cold, dead stone; dead as the person it was engraved for.

Alfred looked at the drawings of the Nations next to it. Arthur, Francis, Mattie, Yao, Ivan, Kiku, Feliciano, Lovino, Gilbert, Ludwig, and the others. Slowly, Alfred picked up his pencil, and began to erase every single one. The Allies, the Axis, The Baltics, Nordics; everyone in the drawing was slowly disappearing from the page, until it was just a headstone; in the middle of a graveyard, that was in the middle of nowhere.

Alfred put the pencil down, looking at the drawing, now that the Nations were gone. "Nobody will come, I know it." He got up and grabbed the journal, placing it on a bookshelf. When he reached up, his American flag hoodie sleeve rolled down, revealing red marks running up his arms.

He gripped them gently, cradling it in his other hand. "Nobody will come, nobody will care. Because I'm just America. Alfred F. Jones." He exited his room, and opened the door to the bathroom across the hall ,closing it behind him. He opened up the mirror-medicine cabinet, and took out a small, rectangular box; a pill holder, in fact. He opened it and pulled out a small, silver blade, stained in red.

"I'm just Alfred." He pulled up his sleeves, and positioned the blade against his wrists. "The loud," A cut, "Obnoxious," Another, "Worthless", Twenty more, then switched arms, "Fat, dimwitted, stupid, American." He placed the blade back in the box, not even bothering to clean it off.

He looked at his arms, the marks; the old and the new. "That's all I'll ever be, isn't that right?" He began to wash off his arms, not wrapping them in any bandages. Let them become infected. Painful. Unbearable. Disgusting. Just like him.

He walked downstairs, into the grand kitchen; and pulled out some cat food. He placed it into a bowl, putting the bowl onto the ground. "Hero!" He banged the bowl a bit with a spoon, making a tinkling noise. "Dinner's here!"

Said cat came running in, diving into the bowl of food immediately.

Alfred weakly smiled at his cat ,reaching down and scratching it behind it's ears; then wincing in pain at his arms. He looked down at them, and grimaced. It hasn't even been that long since he cut them, and already they were starting to look horrible.

Shuddering, he left the kitchen, leaving Hero and his food. Alfred walked back upstairs to his room, and lay down on his bed. Looking at the time, he noticed that it was just about 10:00 at night. Yawning, he took off his glasses and set them on the night table. He rolled on to his side and closed his eyes, drifting off into a soon-to-be uncomfortable sleep. The bed underneath him started to stain, right under his arms.

just North, above America, another Nation was making his way to Alfred's house. A Nation with long caramel hair, and violet eyes mirrored by glasses. This Nation was early in arriving. _Amazing,_ he thought. _I didn't think that I would arrive this early. Lucky there wasn't any traffic, eh? I should arrive at Alfie's house sometime tomorrow morning. That's great!_

Little did he know, he would arrive to bloodshed, tears, and a broken twin. And a whole new turn in adventures, trying to find the broken puzzle pieces that disappeared a long time ago.

* * *

_So yeah. That's it. The end of the first chapter. A big change in the other 'Tears of a Hero', yeah? I thought it was. I don't know about you. _

_Also, I didn't want to get into too much detail about the kitchen or bathroom, since I figured people would've been bothered by my over-detailed description of the bedroom. XD What can I say? I'm obsessed with details. But if you look up 'awesome bathroom' and 'awesome kitchen' on Google images, the first one it what I imagined his bathroom and kitchen would look like. Yeah. I'm a detail fanatic. _

_So, I hope you enjoyed the first chapter! This story will be much more slower paced than the last story, and I think it'll be for the better. And I hope you think the same. _

_See you next chapter! _

_xoxoxoxo_

_With Love,_

_ Amy_


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